


The Tournament

by Purple_Firestorm



Category: Original Work
Genre: King Arthur Time Period, Magic, Other, Swordfighting, medieval setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 00:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple_Firestorm/pseuds/Purple_Firestorm
Summary: Aura is a woman in medieval times and enters into a dangerous fighting tournament undercover in the hopes of winning the grand prize of 200 gold coins. She also has magical abilities, but this plays little significance in this story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I binge-watch Merlin.

The cool, thick mist that obscured the land from view slowly lifted as the wind picked up and the sun rose steadily over the horizon. As the gray mist slowly dissipated, aging castle walls stood out in sharp relief, reaching high into the sky, as if they could touch the clouds themselves. Thin trails of smoke rose from hundreds of smaller houses surrounding the grand castle that nestled itself inside the sturdy walls; guards patrolled the high walls, crossbows and spears at the ready, armor glinting in the morning sun, while those on the ground marched in tandem with one another, a single sound as their heavy boots thudded into the soft spring ground. Longswords rested on their hips, shined perfectly, spears in their left hand as they marched through the streets, watching as the city around them slowly woke with the sun.

A young woman with dark blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a fair but dirty face looked up at the castle walls, in awe. She had seen 2 other castles before in her lifetime, but never one of this size, or this well maintained. As she thought this, she could hear the sounds of stonemasons working nearby, repairing cracks that time and weather beat into the white-gray walls of thick, solid stone. The castle and the walls were grand and massive, so tall she couldn’t see the top of the highest tower with the mist still hanging in the air. The roofs were made of the finest clay and stone tiles, every roof of the same reddish-brown color and well maintained through rain and sun; glass windows shone with bright colors and pictures, depicting various valiant battles and moments in the kingdom’s history. A noble night stood over the dead body of a monster with bat wings and lion’s body, while a fair looking maiden with halo around her head handed out flowers to ill patrons. The windows all told a story, and the woman wished to know them all.

Her blue eyes fell back to street level and she leapt to the side as a man in a hurry with a heavy wheelbarrow surged past her; his cart was filled with crops that would soon rot if he didn’t sell them, and no doubt he needed every pence he could get ahold of. An older woman walked past, a small bundle in her arms and she dropped a fine cloth into the mud. When she tried to pick it up, more cloth fell from her arms and she wailed as the fine linens were soiled with mud and filth. The young woman stepped forward, picking up each cloth carefully, and offered a few coins for one of the soiled linens. She didn’t need it, but it might be nice to repair her shirt with. And the poor woman looked on the verge of tears.

The elderly woman thanked her profusely as the soiled linens were placed to the side of the clean ones and took the few pence from the young woman’s hand. “Bless you child.” The elderly woman said and the young woman nodded. “Aura, my name is Aura.” The elderly woman thanked her again and walked towards the center of the Lower Town, where the market was no doubt coming alive with people looking to sell their wares. For this week was a special one. For this week, once a year, a tournament would be held, the grand prize was 200 gold pieces, and anyone could enter.

It was a no-holds-bar competition, held for entertainment, with no rules, no banned weapons, though magic couldn’t be used to make it more fair, and a rather high death rate. All kinds of unpleasant folk would enter the kingdom in search of those 200 gold pieces and to spend a dinner in the presence of royalty. Aura cared more about the gold than the royalty; her experience with them was they were arrogant, rude, obnoxious and out-of-touch and often cowardly. But with those 200 gold pieces, she could have her own house, small but perfect for her, and open up her own apothecary, like she dreamed of since she was little.

Aura had a gift for healing, science and plants and had used those skills to heal dozens of people over the course of her lifetime; most had been hurt while fighting bandits or doing high-risk work like masonry or mining. The other thing that made her so adept at healing was her own magical talents, though not everyone appreciated them.

Most people didn’t hate magic, and it wasn’t banned, but almost everyone Aura had met viewed magic with a sense of hesitation and reluctance; she rarely told anyone that she could use magic for this reason, lest someone get a pre-conceived notion into their heads before knowing her. And she wouldn’t use magic in the tournament either.

Aura headed for a small house that belonged to a very distant relative of her mother’s someone she had never met before, and knocked on the weather-beaten wooden door. It took a few minutes before someone answered; she was a woman about twice Aura’s age, living with her father to care for him after a work injury left him badly burned.

“Good morning. I’m Aura.” There was no response from the other woman. “Hildegard’s daughter?” Aura asked, hopeful for some kind of recognition. “Hildegard?” the aging father in the corner sat up straighter in his chair and tried to hide the wince as he did so, burn marks pulling and stretching as he moved about. Aura nodded to the aging man and looked back to the woman, waiting and finally she stepped back and let her in.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry to drop in like this, but all the rooms in the area are full. I need a place to stay. I can pay you, if that is what you need.” Aura produced a few small pence coins from her pouch and the woman looked at them, slid them into her hand and placed them into a jar on the counter of a small kitchen.

“We don’t have a bed to spare, and you will have to fetch your own water, but feel free to use the fire and cutlery if you wish. Just clean up after yourself and don’t disturb my father when he’s taking a nap.” The old man scoffed at the notion and Aura couldn’t suppress a faint smile, reminded of an older man back in her home village, one she had come to see as her grandfather, though they shared no common blood.

“Aura. It’s nice to meet you.” Aura extended her hand and the woman hesitated then took it and shook lightly a few times. “Gail.” Gail turned back to her father and helped him sit up in his chair better, moving the thin cushions around behind his back and looking over his burns.

“What brings you here, Aura?” the father looked at her kindly and Aura smiled, taking a seat near him at the small kitchen table. “The tournament. I intend to enter.”

Both Gail and her father let out deep rumbling laughter, as if she had just committed the funniest practical joke of all time. When they noticed her lack of humor, their smiles faded and the laughter died down. “You’re serious?” Gail looked nervous and dubious as Aura nodded.

The father shook his head and scoffed lightly. “Over 100 hardened men enter the contest, and sometimes a woman makes an appearance. No woman has made it to the second round. Most don’t survive.” The old man looked worried as Aura’s face refused to change, showing her resolve and Gail shook her head.

“Well, you’ve got guts. Foolish, but I give you that.” The old man slouched in his chair slightly and winced as his healing burns pulled painfully on his thin clothing.

“May I ask what happened?” Aura looked at the extensive burns on his left side and wondered how bad they were under the clothes. He had to be in such pain.

“Cannon misfired near me. My partner didn’t survive, so I got off lucky.” Gail scoffed at his statement and Aura looked to the daughter. “He can’t move on his own, unless he wishes to open up all the skin again and get infections. He can’t walk or stand on his own, and his bandages need cleaning 4 times a day.” The poor woman looked exhausted and Aura pulled her bag closer to her body and riffled through the contents for a moment before procuring a glass jar of light green gel.

“This is Aloe, from the Aloe Vera plant. It’s rare this far north, but I spent a few months in the southern kingdoms, and it’s very common there. This should help with the healing and the discomfort, and reduce the chance of infection.” Aura laid the jar on the table and Gail snatched it up and looked it over, before opening it and sniffing it carefully. She touched it lightly, rubbing the viscous gel over her fingers thoughtfully before looking at Aura with a raised eyebrow.

“How did you come about to this again?” Gail was viewing her with a new suspicion, and Aura felt slightly insulted that someone would think she stole it. “I spent 4 months in the southern lands, near the desert. Aloe Vera grows wild there so it’s worthless down there, but it’s worth a lot of money up here. It doesn’t preserve very well unless you know exactly what you’re doing.” Gail set the jar aside and Aura felt a stab of annoyance at the woman’s abstinence. Well, it was her choice, so Aura took the jar back to sell later when the tournament was done.

They fell into a low, uneasy silence for several long minutes, then Aura looked back to both of them, then set her bag aside and pulled out the mask and hood she would be wearing at the tournament. She didn’t want anyone knowing she was a woman, it would skew how some fighters acted towards her, and odds are the king would never award the money to a woman if just one fighter held back against her. She was better off not showing what she was until the tournament was over.

Gail watched as Aura pulled out her entire outfit; thick leather tunic that hid her chest under thin straps that held at the sides, thick leather armor over her thighs and calves, with a thin fabric at the sides where she was most flexible. A thin hood hid her hair and a layer of leather that protected her head slightly, and a thin black cotton fabric covered her nose and mouth. And finally a black paint around her eyes, and the exposed parts of her face. Thick leather gloves and boots were the last to go on, and she slid a blade into a small sheath in her left and right boot, just in case her opponent tried anything underhanded. But of course they would try something underhanded, it was part of the tournament.

Her weapons of choice were slim, short swords that sliced through the air with a faint ringing sound and smaller knives hidden all over her person for stabbing, slashing and throwing. She had no shield, no metal armor, no chainmail, just the thin leather coverings all over her body.

Aura could sense Gail’s apprehension and her father’s slight appreciation for her garments. She looked like an assassin, deadly in the graceful way she moved and the speed and swiftness of her steps. Flexibility, speed, timing and awareness were her greatest weapons, not the knives or swords. She could dissect someone’s fighting style in just a few moves, and could anticipate what they would do to defeat her.

Dressed and taking a few deep breaths, she stretched out the leather, and rubbed it down, getting it loose again; it had been in her bag for over a week now and the leather was drying out a bit. She needed to buy some cream for that, if she had enough money left for it.

Aura nodded to her hosts before leaving out the door and finding no one on the other side to see her come out. Good, she didn’t want anyone finding out what she really was, or following the ‘assassin-looking fighter’ home to intimidate her or kill her in her sleep. With the crowd the tournament drew, it happened every year, several times in fact.

Aura headed to the sign-in area and stood in line with the many men waiting to enter the tournament. She noticed not one woman stood in line, though one person that was covered from head to toe like her kind of reminded Aura of a woman, the way that contestant held themselves and their anxiously spinning head. Paranoia leeched off that contestant.

Aura slowly made her way to the front of the line and listened as one gruff voice after another gave their names; she had to fight hard to suppress her laughter, considering the ridiculous names some of the men were giving. Names like Cedar Woods, Rowan Saplin, and other ridiculous names that were in no way their real names. It was on their faces, when they lied about their names; some of them were wanted criminals, Aura was willing to bet, but more than half the contestants lied about their names. Aura would too.

“Name.” The man in thin armor with quill in hand looked up at Aura with bored eyes, small stains of black ink on his hands and fingertips from his constant writing while his companion assigned everyone a number and told them when they would fight with a similarly bored expression on his face. “Evan Gregg.” “Preferred weapon.” “Shortswords.” Aura answered the bored man with the quill and he wrote it down then motioned her to move on with a tilt of his head to the man sitting beside him, writing name and number on another sheet of parchment. Contestants with similar preferred weapons would fight one another in the first round to find the better fighter, and Aura noticed there were a lot of shortswords on the list. It was a common weapon and was easier to handle than the longsword and required less muscle and less training, but demanded getting closer to the opponent.

“Your first battle will be tomorrow, 12th fight of the day. Report to the contestants’ tent by the first gong and wait until you are called. If you are killed during the tournament, your body will be sent to next of kin within 3 days. If none claims your remains, you will be cremated and your belongings will be added to the betting pool. You are not allowed to bet while participating in the tournament, but you may bet if you are disqualified. Magic and poison of any kind is not allowed to be used at any point in time during the tournament, or on any of your weapons, armor, or anywhere on your person. Violation of this rule results in disqualification. If you strike an opponent that is already on the ground, disabled, or incapacitated, you will be disqualified. You will not be disqualified if your opponent dies at your hand whilst fighting, or as a result of wounds from fighting. Any gold they had on their person or winning from their bets will go to the betting pool. If injured, you may see the physician for treatment, but it’s not free. You may withdraw at any time you wish.”

The man was talking like a zombie, like he had said it hundreds of times over the last few days, and Aura was sure he had. Aura nodded to the man, who handed her the quill. Most people here couldn’t pen their name, but all that was needed was an X by their name to signify they understood the rules. There were very few rules in this tournament, and dirty fighting was common, mostly eye-gouging and ball-kicking; Aura only did such things if her life was truly on the line, but here, for this tournament, she would follow the high road. Well, higher than most of the contestants anyway.

“Here is your number, do not lose it.” The bored number man handed her a small piece of painted wood with a number carved into it. “No weapons are banned, all are legal, as are any fighting styles” Aura already knew that. “If you should win, you will receive the prize money at an award ceremony presided over by the royal court.” Aura had to fight from rolling her eyes at the idea of meeting anyone with a royal title. The only thing royal about people like that was that they were a royal pain.

Aura slipped the small wooden number into a pocket; there was no other registration for her to complete. This was it; she was in the tournament. Aura let out a breath has hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

A large crowd gathered not far from the sign-in area and names with weapon preference were added to the very long list of people being bet on. Someone that stood near the sign-in area would put down little notes and would give a number for the massive array of boards arranged in the large semi-circle. People of all kinds stood and chattered near the boards, looking as name after name was added, and finally Aura was able to see the number put by her name. She felt a jolt of slight anger when she saw she had very small odds of winning, and everyone was now betting for her opponent. Scores out of 50 points were given based on sight, her size, her weapon choice, the state of her weapons, past performances, and just how the man judging and assigning the points felt about her; the higher the number of points, the more likely people though she would win. Her score was 18. Abysmal.

Well, she would have to prove them wrong.

Aura headed back to her temporary home and was greeted with Gail, who looked, waiting for something and Aura produced the small wooden number. Gail looked it over, running her fingers over it as if it held all the secrets to the world, before Aura took it back gently and Gail came back to her senses. The woman shook her head and once more told Aura how foolhardy the entire thing was, and how likely she was to be killed in battle. Aura scoffed in her head at the notion; she had faced far worse in her life, especially since her mother died when she was 7. She’d raised herself and had been to hell and back, several times over.

Supper that night was subdued and quiet, with no one talking and Gail looking dubiously at Aura over and over again, until Aura couldn’t handle it anymore and went to bed early. She sat in a corner where sacks piled up would be her bed, a wool blanket for warmth, and she rubbed her leather with some cream she had bought in the market. She hadn’t stayed in the market for long, since some men were eyeing her outfit and looking at her like she was a meal. They felt sure she would go down easily. She would delight in proving everyone wrong.

When the leather was supple and soft in her hands and the sounds of her hosts softly snoring were the only noises in the house, she slid onto the sacks and pulled the wool blanket over her body. She was ready for the tournament tomorrow, she knew she was. She was skilled, she was lethal, she was fast, and she was smart.


	2. Round 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fighting in the tournament begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence, but not very graphic.

Aura woke with the sun the next morning and stretched out her muscles and the leather of her armor before donning it all and heading out from her corner to greet her hosts. Gail was barely awake, yawning loudly as she prepared food for them all and Aura headed over to help. Everyone was silent in the morning, and Aura took over cooking as Gail changed her father’s bandages and cleaned him up. Aura got a short look at the extensive burns and bruising over his torso and left arm; it looked mottled, flaking and peeling in some places and he would no doubt have a lot of scarring over the left side of his body. She wondered how bad it was on the parts of his body she couldn’t see, like his legs and lower body. She shuddered at the thought of the pain he must constantly be in.

Aura placed the finished food at the table and Gail and her father sat together to eat; Gail looked pleased at the food, but wouldn’t let it show on her face, though it shined in her eyes at having someone else to help her around the house. The woman was a stubborn proud one, that was for sure.

Aura ate with the family in silence and then gathered all her weapons and gear together, and gave it all a detailed examination before heading out into the cool air. The morning was still and brisk, with thin trails of smoke slowly rising from chimneys and the smell of cooking food wafted from each house. The tournament wouldn’t be for several more hours, but already the contestants were making their way to the main entrance tent that bordered the arena.

The tent was massive, larger than several average houses together, reaching at least a dozen feet into the air and extending an entire block of houses in each direction. Roughly worked wooden benches lined every area of open space inside the tent and contestants were already sitting down. Even numbered contestants sat on one side of the tent, and odd numbers on the other, to prevent someone from taking out their competition when the people were there to see it.

For this was all for the people, for their entertainment, to amuse and calm them and let them know that they could achieve something in their lives; however, they would never compete in real tournaments. Only those of noble or royal blood could participate in such games. Aura thought it was a ridiculous rule, but there was no changing it. It was just how things had always been, and probably always would be.

Aura sat on the bench in full leather armor and heavy black makeup around her eyes and nose, watching each person that entered the tent with care, looking for her opponent and looking for the ones that would be underhanded, or for those she knew would be wanted men. An hour after sitting down, she saw 2 men enter the tent, thick makeup all over their face, red and black paint covering their faces, but she would know them anywhere. Their faces, without the makeup, were on wanted posters and drawings all over the kingdom, and in several others, for being murderous bandits with more than 20 dead between them. They were wanted, dead or alive, though worth more alive; one of the posters stated the king wanted the men alive so he could watch them die in person. A member of his court had been mortally wounded by the bandits, left to die in the woods; he hadn’t been found in time and died shortly after a passing merchant found him, covered in twigs, leaves and blood. The court physician determined the poor man, a member of the king’s court, had been left to die in the ditch for 2 days. It was a slow, painful, horrible way to die and the wanted bandits took pleasure in that method. 

Aura hoped to face them at some point and reveal them to the king. She had run into them once before and had received a broken hand and lost all her money for her troubles. She would love to see them get what they deserved.

Aura stood up from her spot on the bench and someone immediately took that spot, but she didn’t mind. She looked at the betting boards outside the tent, since her turn wouldn’t be for several more hours, and she needed to keep her muscles loose and stretched. The betting boards had been updated overnight and it appeared that the contestants that were meant to face those wanted bandits had ‘mysteriously’ disappeared during the night, and hadn’t returned to his room last night. If he failed to register for the fight in time, he would forfeit.

This kind of underhanded work was common for the crowd this tournament drew, as there were no rules and the people competing had no code of conduct to uphold once the tournament was over. Unlike nobility or knights, they were common folk and had completely different rules to their lives. Knights had a lengthy code to uphold and honor, or risk being thrown from the knights’ ranks; it was the greatest shame one could bring to themselves and their noble households. Aura was rather glad she had been born a commoner; she had far fewer rules on her behavior and how she needed to act.

Aura searched out her number again on the board and saw her odds hadn’t changed overnight, though a few had; those that lost points were often drunk, and more likely to lose or die in the tournament. Those that gained points had probably shown off to some people and the word of their skills had made it to the dealers. A single dealer stood at the boards, looking at the sun for a moment before looking over to Aura, hidden in her uniform, and nodded to her before he turned back to the boards and looked them over, and took some bets and people roused from their beds and homes, ready for the first day of the tournament.

The first day of the tournament was eliminations, as was the 2nd and sometimes the 3rd day, depending on the number of starting contestants there were. This year, there were over 100, and each match could last for an hour, until someone became too exhausted to fight anymore. However, most fights lasted only minutes at a time, depending on the skills of the opponents: they could be evenly matched and last 20 minutes, or they could be uneven and last less than 30 seconds. The elimination days were also the days that claimed the most lives. Anywhere from 2-10% of the contestants would not leave the tournament alive, and almost 50% would be injured in some way. Usually 1 in 3 contestants would be injured enough to require medical attention, and about half of those contestants would be forced to withdraw due to the injuries.

A loud gong sounded over the warming air and Aura made her way back to the tent and placed her small wooden number on the sign-in board; she would be the 34th match of the day, and might not actually fight today, depending on how long other matches went.

The sign-in board was meticulously looked after by several servants dressed in red and gold, the colors of the king, with a lion emblem on their chests. They were servants of the court, and would ensure that no one tried to move their numbers around to gain better odds of winning. The man from the day before, still with ink on his fingertips and hand from the quill in his fist, recorded each number down in his thick records book to prevent cheating.

The entries were aligned to prevent from having all the same contestant with the same weapon going at once; the first few fights were: broadswords, mace, shortswords, spear, longswords. This was to ensure the fighting remained entertaining for the masses and to prevent confusion for the record keepers. There was no rule that only one type of weapon could be used, though most people had a preference for one in particular; Aura preferred bow and arrow herself, throwing knives when that wouldn’t work, otherwise she used the shortswords.

Another loud gong echoed through the air and the first 2 contestants left the tent into the arena to a rumbling roar of cheers, clapping and jeering. Aura could make out the faintest glimpse of what had to be thousands of faces sitting on raised benches, but the tent flap was back in place too soon. The next 2 contestants stood near the tent flap opening, a servant of the court between them to ensure they didn’t fight out of sight of the people. It would be pointless if they fought one another and no one could see it.

Aura listened to the roar, clap and gasps of the crowd, punctuated by the near constant sounds of metal clashing together. Broadswords were curved and wide at the ends, narrow at the hilt and could slice through flesh with ease, but could easily fall from their wielder’s hands due to their odd balance.

Aura listened for several solid minutes of shouting jeers from the crowd and the constant ringing of metal striking metal, before the crowd shouted in unison. Someone had won. A few moments later, a rangy man with long limbs and thin neck strutted into the tent, head held high and a wide toothy smile that revealed rotting teeth. He walked over to the sing-in board and watched and cheered when the servants picked up his number and moved it over a board, to the next round. He raised his swords, still glinting slightly with traces of blood and cloth, and smirked at the large group around him. He strutted away from everyone, heading out of the tent and out of sight.

The man he had fought against didn’t return to the tent, so he had been injured enough to need some kind of medical attention, or was being carried away on a stretcher. Or he might be sulking in the arena, some contestants were known to do that. Aura waited for the other man to return to the tent, but nothing happened, until another gong sounded and the next 2 contestants left the tent and entered the arena to more rousing cheers and clapping.

For hours, passing noon and entering into the early evening hours, Aura waited her turn to fight. The numbers of the men in the tent slowly dwindled down, as number after wooden number as removed from the board and tossed unceremoniously into a large crate. The crate of shame, aura had come to think it as, where the losers’ wooden numbers were placed. The next round board was slowly filling up and once again, they were being paired with other men that used the same of similar weapons of choice. 

Another board was in the back of the tent, to the side, and it was a much more sinister board: it was the death toll board, and the dead had their numbers placed on this board in case family or friends came to claim the body and belongings. By noon, when the fighting had stopped and everyone had eaten something during the noon intermission, there were 10 dead, out of 65 contestants. About 15%. It was proving to be a very brutal day.

A few turns before she was meant to go, those 2 wanted bandits entered the arena, one after the other; the fights were short and Aura could hear the sounds of the crowd gasping, and the wanted bandits returned to the tent, grinning darkly and leering as their numbers were moved to the next round board. Both their opponents were placed on the deceased board.

The sun was touching the tops of the trees, casting long shadows over everything and giving the arena a dark, ominous feeling when it was Aura’s turn to stand at the tent openings. She checked her armor over once again and heard scoffing and looked to her opponent. He was a massive, broad man with wide shoulders, massive arm muscles and very tall, but by the way he moved, it was obvious that he lacked finesse, speed and agility. Aura had those in spades and would use that to her advantage.

The match before hers was a short one, lasting only about 90 seconds before the crowd was cheering for the winner and the winner himself strode into the tent, dramatically opening the tent flaps and showing off his muscular arms and bare chest. Aura rolled her eyes as the man walked over to the next round board. His opponent, who had lost, huffed back into the tent and immediately began shouting about the winner using potions, poison, magic, anything to ensure he moved onto the next round ad not the man that had just beat him. Aura had seen them fight briefly, and though the winner was a cocky man, far too sure of himself, he was a good fighter. The loser was just that, a loser and a very sore one at that.

The gong that started the next match sounded in the air and Aura entered the arena, walking to one side of the arena, away from her opponent. The arena was large enough to hold at least 10 thousand people, made of stone and wood, with hundreds of wooden benches set in the stone floors, rising up so those in the back could see everything over the heads of those in front. The stone dividers where the stairs were located were draped in red and gold; the stands undulated with the thousands of people in them, blending together from where Aura stood in the arena. One small section of the stands was elaborately constructed, painted in finer red and gold colors than the rest of the stands, and contained several cushioned golden chairs. On the tallest and most ornate one sat the king, long cloak over his shoulders, silver and gold adorning his silk and satin clothing, complete with jeweled golden crown on his graying hair. His eyes were hard and cold, like brushed metal, which matched his hard face and the way he sat and looked on the people in the arena.

On his left was the queen, dressed in emerald green satin, delicate vine-like golden crown on her brown curls. Her eyes were a welcoming golden brown color, unlike her husband’s harsh ones. To the kings right was his son, and he looked like a royal prince was imagined to look. Handsome, with thick golden hair, piercing blue eyes and defined features of his face and body. He was draped in a red cape, wearing his knight’s uniform, chainmail included. To the left of the queen was a little girl, the princess, barely 10 years old and looking like her mother, with dark curls, hazel eyes and nearly bouncing out of her small chair in excitement. Aura wondered if bringing someone so young to such bloody fights was a good idea.

Aura turned to face her opponent, stepping forward to tap their weapons together before moving 15 feet from one another to wait for the next gong, signaling the start of the fight. Aura shifted her swords in her hands, feeling the direction of the wind, the location and sun and the impact it might have on her sight. Her opponent stared at her like a meal, like he couldn’t wait to defeat her and rise in the ranks and shame her in the arena in front of thousands of people. Aura thought that rather rude, but readied herself all the same.

The gong that started the match rang in the air and the man was already running at her, and as she had suspected, he was large, heavy and strong, but he was slow and unable to maneuver well. It took muscles and time to swing his sword, and he aimed to swing as hard as he could, showing off his muscles and strength for the crowd. Aura ducked under his swing and before he could pull his arms back to defend himself from her attack, she had her fist up under his chin, putting her entire body into it and he flew backwards several feet, his sword falling from his grip. Aura had been punched like that before; it left the head soft and fuzzy, ears ringing and thoughts muddled.

The man lay on the ground for several long seconds, his sword to the side and lost to him, but he regain his wits and pulled out a mace from his belt. If it hit her head, considering how hard he would swing, it would certainly kill her. But he would never hit her, he was too slow.

Aura was right, he didn’t even get the mace close to her as he swung wide at her as he charged, arm flailing as he swung the mace, his other arm outstretched for balance. Aura dove to the side of the strike and dashed under his outstretched arm and punched him hard in the ribs with the hilt of her sword and she heard and felt some ribs crack under the pressure of her blow. The man tried to bring his mace back to himself to swing again, but another well-placed blow from the hilt of her sword struck his shoulder and he dropped the mace in reflex. Aura jabbed him in the chest with the hilt of her swords and he fell sprawling on the ground, winded and gasping for air.

Aura took a few steps back: he was no longer armed and he was on the ground, so she couldn’t strike him or be disqualified. But before the gong could sound to signal the end of the fight, the man was struggling to his feet, snarling at her, furious that she was making a fool of him. He roared in anger, charging at her full speed. She ducked to the side, running up behind him and waited for the man to stop moving. He turned around, raising his fists to strike her. She raised her right leg pivoting and spinning on her left, and delivered a hard roundhouse kick to his head, knocking him out cold. He fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Aura took a few steps back and waited, but the man wasn’t getting up this time and Aura moved away from him as the gong sounded again, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. The match was over. She had won.

Aura entered the tent again, passing the next contestant, who had his mouth hanging open in shock. The gong signaling the start of his fight brought him back to reality and he disappeared into the arena, with his opponent and the fighting started again. Aura moved to watch as her number moved from the sign-in board to the next round board and felt a small swell of pride. She knew she would be able to defeat this opponent, he had been so slow after all, but still, the pride was there.

Aura didn’t hang around in the tent for long, making her way out into the fresh air and watched as the dealer updated the betting boards. Her number was now 24, much better than before, but one of the lowest numbers for those people in the next round. She didn’t let it bother her as she made her way out of the area and into the town, heading for her temporary home with her distant relatives.

The fighting ended just a few short rounds after Aura had gone, so Gail and her father returned to the house shortly after Aura did. She had removed her makeup and was meticulously looking over her armor, concealing clothing and weapons when they entered the house. Gail helped her father into his normal chair near the fire, but both were staring at Aura as if she was a creature of another species. Gail’s eyes were wide and slightly suspicious, but her father looked rather amused, but also shocked. Aura continued working on her clothing as they settled into their normal nightly routine; Aura rose shortly afterwards to make dinner so Gail could clean her father and change the bandages.

Supper was once more a quiet affair and Aura was beginning to feel like a sideshow attraction with how the father and daughter were staring at her. Finally, she looked up from her rabbit stew.  
“Well, I can tell you want to say something to me. Say it.” Aura looked from Gail to her father, and finally, the father was the one to speak.

“That was impressive, Aura. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. I doubt even the prince would know how to fight against something like that.” Aura couldn’t hide her grin as the old man smiled wide, his eyes now far away as he pictured it in his head.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Gail once more sounded suspicious of Aura and it was slowly but surely grating on her nerves.

“I learned because I had to. I’m not very strong, and I had to fight for my life and everything I needed since I was 7. There is no better teacher than survival.” Aura looked back down to her rabbit stew, thinking about all the hard lessons she had learned after her mother died, and had no one to look after her, no one to help her grow up like a normal girl. She had scrimped and fought and clawed her way to adulthood. Someone had tried to kill her or left her for dead more times than she cared to count. And she had done the same to those that threatened her survival. She could still remember what it was like to go to bed hungry several days in a row, to not know where her next meal would come from, or if she would live to see another sunrise. To be so cold during the winter that any source of warmth was welcomed, even steaming piles of dung coated in hay.

Aura looked back up at Gail and her father, finished her rabbit stew and helped clean up before deciding she needed to take a walk around the area before the sun set completely.

Outside, smoke rose from every home in the rosy red glow of the afternoon, and torches flitted in the distance as guards made their way through the streets, mostly checking on the taverns and places where the contestants would stay. Even from a block away, aura could hear a tavern filed with the noise of a rowdy fight, things shattering and men shouting and fists landing. Aura shook her head in disdain and made her way to the end of the block, where a few old women were gossiping with one another before the darkness forced them back indoors. 

Aura looked up at the darkening sky and sighed. She would never tire of looking up at the sky as the sun set and one by one, the stars came out, the brightest first, twinkling so far away. Aura was a curious and scientific person by nature and wondered what it was like where those stars were, what they were made of, and if Earth looked like a star from where the stars shifted in the sky. She looked back down to reality as boots and shifting metal armor echoed off stone and wooden house walls. It would be dark soon, and guards would be shooing people back into their homes. It wasn’t safe outside after dark, even less so with all the unsavory men in town for the tournament.

Aura made her way back to the house as a small group of guards made their way down the street and to where she was standing. She closed the door behind herself and looked into the house. Gail was sitting at the table, mending a dress, while her father was reading a thin book in his favorite chair. Both looked up when Aura returned but said nothing as Aura made her way over to the corner where she would sleep. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing she had even slept on, but it certainly wasn’t the worst.

After arranging the sack to hold her sleeping form better, she helped Gail put his father into bed, before blowing out the candles and slipping in the hollow in the sacks, pulling the blanket over her body and instantly falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, there will be one chapter for each of the days of the Tournament. 6-10, not sure yet. And maybe a part 2.


End file.
